Timothée Chalamet One Shots

rebound

Nine pm at the bar was never your finest moment. You normally went sad and alone and tonight was no different. On top of already having an absolutely terrible day, you got dumped via text while you patted coffee stains off your white pants this morning. You should've seen it coming since your partner had been standoffish for the past few weeks but you never expected a pathetic "I don't wanna be in a relationship anymore" text. That was enough to make you want to day drink on the clock.

    You thanked the bartender for your double vodka martini and limited yourself to small sips for your own good. Alcohol didn't make you feel any better. It actually made you feel worse. Drinking away a shitty day on the verge of tears at a hotel bar was the definition of pathetic and ironically, it made you want to drink more so you could forget this day ever even happened.

    "I'm going to the restroom really quickly," you told the bartender. It's not like he cared. You downed what was left of your drink and excused yourself to the bathroom so you didn't further embarrass yourself by crying in a public space. You let a few tears fall and then returned to the bar to order a second drink.

    "Actually, I already have one for you," the bartender said, placing another glass in front of you.

    "I'm that predictable, huh?" you sighed, accepting it anyways. "Thank you."

    "You should be thanking that guy over there," the bartender said, nodding towards a man on the opposite end of the bar. "He paid for it."

    You made the mistake of looking in that direction and locked eyes with your admirer. He waved. You drank half the glass in one mouthful.

    He must've taken that as permission to approach you. He walked up to your chair, hands behind his back like he was unsure if this conversation was a good idea or not. You prayed your negative energy didn't ruin someone else's day.

    "I'm Timothée," he said with a boyish grin. "I noticed you like martinis."

    "Thanks for the drink," you answered as nicely as possible. Your voice was still shaking from your cry session. "I'm (Y/N)."

    "Nice to meet you. Mind if I sit?"

    You nodded and took another sip of your vodka.

    "I'm just gonna be straightforward and let you know that I think you're gorgeous." He leaned in toward you with his chin in his hand, eyes glistening. "I don't like beating around the bush."

    You decided to give in to the flirtiness tonight. Maybe it could be good for you. "That's sweet."

    "You're single, right? Or at least not in some type of committed relationship?" From the way he was looking at you, it didn't seem like he even cared what your answer was.

    You shook your head no. "Very single right now," you answered, washing down the lump in your throat with the rest of your drink. "Down for anything."

    Timothée nodded, slightly concerned at how fast you could finish a martini. "Do you want another one of those? Or should I cut you off?" he asked. "I don't wanna have a conversation with you if you won't remember it."

    "What kind of conversation are we having?"

    "Guy buying drinks for someone at a bar. You fill in the blank," Timothée laughed. "One more and then you're done." He requested another drink from the bartender. "And don't make it a double this time."

    "Rude." You gnawed at the toothpick of olives in your empty glass.

    "He would've cut you off eventually," Timothée reasoned, helping you off the barstool once you received your third and final drink. "Let's go outside."